


Tactical Sleep Maneuvers

by Sombre



Category: Arslan Senki | Heroic Legend of Arslan
Genre: Arslan's powers of observation strike again, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-15
Updated: 2015-07-15
Packaged: 2018-04-09 10:28:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4345016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sombre/pseuds/Sombre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was bad enough that he had ever had the thought, had dared to have the thought when Gieve made off-hand comments about how close they had become; when Lord Narsus gave him warning glances and Farangis struck up distracting conversations with Daryun at opportune times.</p><p>And all the while, Arslan just thought it was cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tactical Sleep Maneuvers

“N-no, that’s not what I asked for…” mumbled Arslan, frowning and turning over, speaking to no one in particular. It was the usual routine, and after so many days on the road with him, Elam was more than used to it.

The fire crackled, and besides the occasional owl hoots, Daryun’s snoring, and Arslan’s mutterings, the night was quiet under his watch. It was relaxing, the sounds of nature and the night sky, and Elam found himself yawning while staring into it. After a full day of riding, though, even with his usual stamina, offering to cover both his and Gieve’s shifts to enjoy the scenery was probably not the best idea. And he would need to rest a bit more before tomorrow, if he wanted to be of any use defending His Highness in the battles to come. Time to wake up Lord Narsus.

He stood to stretch, then walked over to where the man slept when Arslan began to mumble again.

“But I don’t like mushrooms,” he said, half-yawning. Elam couldn’t help but smile at that. He never could figure out what the prince dreamed about, but it was always amusing to listen. He placed a hand on Narsus’ shoulder.

“No  _don’t_ ,” Arslan called out.

Immediately Elam whirled, a hand on his knife, but his alarm was unfounded. The prince was still asleep. Nothing moved. He hesitated, then reached out for Narsus again, only for Arslan to repeat his adamant demand.

“ _Please_ , Elam,” he added, tightening his hands into fists.

Frowning, Elam moved to where Arslan lay, careful in his movements. Was His Highness really still asleep?

The steady rises and falls of his chest confirmed he was, though his distressed expression was unsettling. Perhaps it would be best to wake him. Prince Arslan had enough to deal with during the day to have to suffer through nightmares.

Yet the mention of his name made him hesitate. Maybe if he waited a bit longer, he could find out what he was dreaming about…

The prince reached into the air, lazily grasping about. “Tell…me…”

Deciding to humor him, Elam kneeled by his side, taking Arslan’s awkwardly dangling hand and resting it on the boy’s chest. “What is it, Your Highness? What would you like me to tell you?”

A full minute passed as he listened, and when Arslan never answered, he sighed. Surely he was being ridiculous, expecting to hold a stable conversation with a sleep talker. But it seemed the other boy had finally relaxed into less fitful sleep, his expression softened, his movements stilled.

His fingers still intertwined with Elam’s.

They were cold and only lightly calloused, as one might expect of a young prince. Such a contrast with his own skin, dry and prematurely wrinkled from years of washing, weeding, cooking, and all the other things he did even after years as a slave. The scars on his hands were old, the fresher few still healing; Arslan’s had yet to bear any permanent mark. With his thumb he traced over the other boy’s knuckles, then across the back of his hand. How nice it must have been, to grow up around people who cared.

He drew his hand away, catching himself. Or would have, had Arslan not chosen that exact moment to turn over, bringing Elam’s hand with him.

“ _Y-Your Highness!_ ” he hissed, trying but failing to pull himself away. If he pulled too hard, he might wake him, or the sound of doing so might wake the others, and what a position to be caught in, curled against the prince of Pars, arm draped around him in a much too familiar embrace.

A quick turn of his head confirmed that no one else was yet awake, but it did little to ease his nerves.

And neither did the squeeze of his palm.

“I think I understand now,” said Arslan, suddenly sounding very much awake. “It’s not that you don’t like me. You’re just worried about what the others would think.”

Elam faltered. Had he been pretending to be a sleep the whole time just to lure him into this conversation?

Arslan chuckled, clutching Elam’s arm around him a little tighter. “I don’t mind, you know. And I won’t tell the others. Only…I can’t say I feel the exact same way.”

Elam was still too stunned to think clearly, and the lack of sleep was catching up with him, but it wasn’t enough to fully dull the singe of regret.

“Are you disappointed?”

“…Eh?”

The prince’s astuteness knew no bounds.

Arslan turned over and smiled. Elam could only stare, and when he finally caught himself, looked away.

But their fingers were still intertwined.

“Your Highness,” said Elam, trying to shift away. “Please…”

It was bad enough that he had ever had the thought, had dared to have the thought when an empire was on the verge of collapsing and war imminent; when Gieve made off-hand comments on how close he’d seemed to be growing to Arslan lately; when Lord Narsus was giving him warning glances and Farangis struck up conversations with Daryun specifically when he and Arslan spoke.

For as much as he might have wished it otherwise, nothing about this could work.

Arslan frowned, but on him it looked like more of a sad sort of pout, and Elam wished it didn’t have to be him to add to the prince’s discontent.

“Does this truly make you so uncomfortable? Despite how you feel?”

Elam swallowed. “I-I…It would be inappropriate for a prince to have this kind of relationship—”

“Even if he wants to make the other person happy? Is that truly so wrong?”

“Well, many would consider it…unbecoming.”

Arslan seemed to relapse into thought with that. “’Unbecoming.’ Hmm. I’ll have to make sure to change that, then, when I become king.”

And Elam just looked at him, not quite sure whether he was sleep talking again or just that naïve. “Your  _Highness_ ,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s not that simple—”

But the prince seemed to think it was, cutting off his words with a kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight, Elam,” he said matter-of-factly, finally relinquishing his grasp. With another yawn, he turned around to go back to sleep. “Please get some rest.”

Elam could barely move, let alone think about sleep. His cheeks were burning and for fifteen seconds he had forgotten how to breathe.

When he glanced around, the night sky was still full of stars, an owl hoot sounded here and there, and the others, Daryun especially, were thankfully still asleep. And then he glanced back at the prince.

“Actually, Your Highness…would you stay up and finish the final watch with me? Until the sun rises?”

Sleep deprivation was not fertile ground for forethought, it seemed.

The words left him as quickly as he had the thought, and in his head the apologies spewed forth, what was he thinking, considering something so high risk, asking the prince to sacrifice his own sleep to spend time with him and there was simply no way Elam was going to be able to stay up much longer—

“On one condition.”

A…condition? Was that a yes?

The prince extended his hand, and without even thinking, Elam reached for it. Reached for it, just as Arslan pulled away and changed the gesture into a chastising, pointed finger. “For the rest of the night, you have to call me ‘Arslan.’ No referring to me as ‘Your Highness.’ Okay?”

“But—I couldn’t possibly—”

He folded his arms across his chest and stuck his nose in the air. “You would disobey a direct order from your next king?”

Elam must have looked positively stunned, because no sooner did Arslan peak out at him did he begin laughing. “Come,” he said, grabbing him by the arm. They drew closer to the cliff’s edge, where the trees receded, and the forest-dense valley spread out before them in a wide open expanse. Crickets chirping around them, the crescent moon at its peak above, Arslan leaned against the other boy, staring up. “You like watching the stars, don’t you? They are especially beautiful tonight.”

Hand in hand with the prince, Elam smiled wistfully, feeling his eyes grow heavy. “Yes,” he said, resting his head on Arslan’s shoulder. “They are.”

And if he could, he would stay up all night to enjoy it.


End file.
